


Winging It

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Oral Sex, Pegging, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28411935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: The original concept was this: Barba and Benson regularly act as each other's wingperson, each agreeing that they won't hook up with someone if the other person has a bad feeling about them - and if neither of them finds someone for the night, they'll go home with each other. No mess, no fuss. The arrangement works well...for a while.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 122





	Winging It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrisLetang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisLetang/gifts).



Barba lifted his head as she dropped her hips back to the mattress, and he leaned his weight onto one elbow so he could swipe an arm over his face. He looked up at Benson but her eyes were closed. Her chest was rising and falling, her breasts barely contained by the cups of her bra, as she fought to catch her breath.

“You good, or should we try for number four?” he asked.

“I’m good,” she answered without looking at him. She blew a puff of air and opened her eyes to stare up at the ceiling for a few seconds.

Barba pushed himself up onto his knees. “You mind?” 

She gestured beside herself with a tired flick of her wrist and he crawled up to flop over onto his back. He watched under his lashes as she shifted and turned herself around, draping her body over his with her chest flattened against his stomach. He stroked absently along the inside of her thigh, tipping his head back into the pillow and closing his eyes as she wrapped her mouth around his erection.

She got him off quickly. It was late and they were both tired. She didn’t skimp on details, though. She slipped two fingers behind his balls, massaging with the perfect amount of pressure. She dragged her teeth up his length, tugging lightly at his crown the way he liked—giving just the smallest edge of pain to his pleasure and making his hips buck a bit.

She swallowed as he came and sucked her way up his length, slurping him clean before unfolding herself and turning to flop back onto the bed beside him. One of her nipples had popped free from her bra and she tucked it away absently, adjusting herself with a tired sigh.

“Thanks,” he said, dragging a hand over his face. “God, you’re good at that.”

She smiled and nudged him with an elbow. “I got three for one.”

He laughed quietly as his heart finally settled back into a normal rhythm, and he glanced at his watch. “You mind if I take a shower before I go? I swear I can still smell cigarettes.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Yeah, I can smell it in your hair. Your clothes are probably worse.”

He rolled his eyes. “Never used to bother me.”

“You used to smoke, yourself,” she reminded him. She paused. “Just imagine if I’d let you go home with that guy.”

“He had his charms,” Barba laughed, reaching up to scratch lightly at his collarbone. “Might’ve been worth it.”

“I didn’t like the way he talked to you.”

“He was an asshole,” Barba agreed. He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing his phone from the nightstand before standing and stretching his back with a grimace.

“You know where the clean towels are,” she said. “Just leave a quarter on the back of the toilet when you’re done.”

He shot her a dirty look. “Funny,” he said, but he couldn’t keep his lips from twitching in amusement. “Wanna join me?”

“I want to sleep,” she said, sitting up and reaching behind herself to unhook her bra. She stripped it off and tossed it at him. “Throw this in the hamper for me?”

“Sure,” he agreed, gathering up the rest of her clothes from the floor, too. “I’ll lock up,” he added. 

“Thanks.” She rolled onto her side with her back to him, pulled the covers up to her cheek, and said on a yawn, “See you tomorrow, Barba.”

He slipped into the bathroom and pushed the door almost closed, leaving it cracked in case she decided she needed to use the toilet while he was in the shower. 

* * *

“Hello,” Barba said, sidling up to the man at the bar and flashing a smile. “Buy you a drink?”

The man dragged a slow look down his body. “No offense, but you’re not my type.”

“Your loss,” Barba said, gesturing at the bartender for two refills. “But I’m not here for myself.” He tipped his head toward Benson, who was at a table against the wall. She was watching them, and Barba couldn’t help but smile at her posture—leaned back in her chair, knees spread far enough to make it lucky she was wearing slacks instead of a skirt, one elbow on the table and hand wrapped around her drink.

The man’s face showed clear interest as he took in the sight, but he glanced back at Barba. “What’re you, her wingman or pimp?”

Barba felt a flash of annoyance. “We prefer wingperson,” he said, showing his teeth in a quick smile as he raised his glass toward his lips. He regarded the man over the rim as he took a drink. “But you can think of me as her...taste-tester.”

“Yeah? I gotta impress you to get with her?” the man asked, picking up his own drink. He downed it quickly, eyeing Benson while he did. He set his glass on the bar. “A little older than I’m usually into, but she’s cute. Why not?”

“Actually,” Barba said, holding up a hand when the other man started to slip off his stool, “Forget it. Enjoy your drink.” He started to turn away but the man reached for his arm.

“Wait, that’s it? She doesn’t even get a say?”

Barba looked down at the man’s hand on his arm. “Of course. By all means,” he said, gesturing. He watched the man stand, adjust his shirt, and start confidently toward Benson’s table. Barba dropped cash on the bar, nodded at the bartender, and trailed along behind the guy.

Benson met Barba’s eyes and Barba shook his head.

“Hey, there,” the man said as he reached the table. “Can I get you a—” 

“No, thank you,” she answered before he could finish his question. Barba ducked his head to hide his smile as the man blinked in surprise, but after a moment the guy turned to glare at him. 

“You two suck,” he muttered, shoving past Barba and heading back toward the bar. Barba sank into the chair beside Benson. 

“What was wrong with him?” she asked, staring after the man with obvious disappointment. “He’s cute.”

“He’s got a nice ass,” Barba said with a shrug of one shoulder, glancing after him, “but he’s not good enough for you.”

“I want to sleep with him, not marry him.”

He shot her a smile. “Fine, if you must know, he told me I wasn’t his type.”

“He was for me, not you.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve a little flattery.” He smirked when she rolled her eyes. “He bruised my ego.”

“Your ego can stand a little bruising,” she teased. She sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. “We’re not having much luck. What about that blonde by the jukebox?”

“Mm.” He shook his head. “She’s been making eyes at the guy over there,” he said with a small flick of his finger. 

“She’s been making eyes at you, too,” Benson said, but she didn’t push it. “What about her friend? She’s pretty. Quiet, polite.”

A small smile played across Barba’s lips, because Benson had been paying close attention to details. “Not sure I’m interested in quiet and polite tonight,” he said, his gaze involuntarily slipping toward a guy stepping out of the men’s room: tall, dark hair and beard, broad shoulders and chest, leather jacket. 

“Why didn’t you tell me we were looking for guys tonight,” she said. “I would’ve narrowed my search.”

He rolled a shoulder and averted his gaze when the man looked at him. “Maybe. It’s been a while.” He gestured subtly toward another guy. “What about him?”

“For me, or you?”

Barba laughed and shot her a look. “Whichever he’s into? But I meant you.”

“Too tall.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “For me, or you?”

“Me.”

“Since when is height a turnoff?”

“It’s not. Sometimes.” She looked away, taking a drink.

“Ah,” he said, suddenly understanding. He considered for a moment before leaning forward to put his elbows on the table, and she met his eyes with a hint of defiance. “Well. I know it’s a soft break from the rules, but we could just call this one.”

“Soft break?” She gave him a speculative look while she considered. “We did try, I suppose. As long as we don’t make a habit out of it.”

“Of course,” he agreed. They only went home with each other as a last resort, if they were unable to find suitable matches for the night. It would be too easy to fall back on each other as a sure thing, to become complacent, and they’d both agreed that they could end up resenting each other and damaging their friendship that way. The arrangement was predicated on trust, respect, communication, and a mutual appreciation for healthy sex.

“Fine,” she said after a few moments. “Let’s go to your place. I don’t have the things we’ll need at mine,” she added, giving him a pointed look, and a burst of anticipation made heat bloom low in his belly. 

“You’re the boss,” he said slowly.

* * *

He groaned into the pillow, clutching fistfuls of his comforter as she continued to pound into him. He was flat on his stomach, his cock leaking into the towel laid out beneath him, his legs spread toward the corners of the bed. 

For someone without much experience—they’d only done this twice before, and while she’d used toys on people in the past, she’d never worn a strapon before the first time she’d tried it with Barba—she was _good_. She’d learned quickly what he liked and didn’t like, had memorized every spot that made him squirm in both good and bad ways.

“ _Jesus_ , fuck,” he gasped into his pillow as she hit his prostate hard enough to sends stars bursting across the insides of his closed eyelids. His whole body was on fire. His erection was pinned beneath him; he knew he could come with nothing more than that little bit of friction as she rocked him repeatedly against the bed, but he was doing his best to fight it until she was ready.

She’d already come once. The strapon was designed to stimulate her with every thrust, too, and she’d dropped down onto his back, bra-covered breasts flattened against him as her hips stuttered unevenly for several moments. She’d kissed his shoulders before pushing herself up to continue.

Now, he knew instinctively that she was close again. The movement of her hips was frantic, a little uneven, and the harsh and labored sounds of her breathing had a hint of a moan buried inside. Barba reached a hand back, feeling blindly for her, and gave her sweaty leg a squeeze.

She drove into him again and he bent one leg up into the air, his toes curling as he let out a whimper that might’ve embarrassed him in other circumstances. A hot pulse of precum traveled up the length of his cock and soaked into the towel, and he pushed himself into the terrycloth in search of more friction, unable to stop himself.

She grabbed his hips and pulled him up and back, and he scrambled to find purchase with his knees against the comforter. She rocked her hips against him, filling him again and again; the sound of skin slapping skin was loud in the room, mingled only with their heavy breaths and quiet moans.

The head of his cock dragged against the towel, the sudden stimulation enough to make him cry out. She reached an arm around him but he was already coming before her fingers found his erection. He pressed his head into the comforter below his pillow, his body jerking as she wrapped her hand around his throbbing length and stroked him through the rest of his orgasm. She’d stopped moving her hips, letting the dildo sit inside him, but every twitch and shiver of his body brought him to the brink of overstimulation.

As soon as she let go of him, he collapsed down to the bed, his knees slipping along the blanket. She followed him down but then put a hand against his lower back and withdrew carefully. He barely heard the sounds of her unbuckling the strapon over the sounds of his own pounding heart, but he didn’t have the energy to lift his head and look back.

He motioned with a hand and felt the bed dip and shift as she moved up beside him. He didn’t ask if she’d finished; he knew she hadn’t. As soon as she was close enough, he dragged himself over her lap and ducked his head. She leaned back against the headboard and slipped her fingers into his hair.

He slid two fingers inside her and found her swollen clit with his tongue. She came almost instantly, throwing her leg over his shoulder as she bucked against him.

He stayed sprawled over her for more than a minute, slowly catching his breath, before carefully rolling over onto his back. He sighed, shoving an arm under his head and looking down at the mess he’d made on himself. He’d probably smeared himself on her, too. 

“Shit,” he muttered, too spent to actually care. He might be dripping lube onto his comforter, but he’d worry about it later.

“Are you good?” she asked, reaching over to lay a palm against his sweaty chest. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“Ask me in the morning,” he teased, offering her a tired smile, but wanting to make sure there was no room for doubt he added: “No. You scratched a very particular itch for me, so thank you for that.”

She laughed, a tired sound, and leaned her head back against the headboard. “Ditto.”

“Hmm.” He closed his eyes. “I should get up and clean up before I fall asleep.”

“You need any help with anything?”

“Mm-mm,” he answered sleepily. “You can stay if you want.”

“Stay?”

Alerted by the hesitancy in her voice, he cracked an eye to look at her. “Shower or nap or whatever.”

“Thanks. I need to get home.”

He let his eye slip closed. “Okay. Need me to call you a ride?”

“No,” she said, and he felt her slide out of bed. “Want me to wash this?”

“I’ll get it,” he answered without bothering to look. He heard her moving around, gathering up her clothes, and after a few moments he groaned and forced himself to sit up. He watched her pull on her shirt before carrying her underwear and pants toward the bathroom. 

He shifted himself to the edge of the bed, careful to avoid the messy towel. He could still feel her—or the dildo, anyway—inside him, and he made a small sound of satisfaction as he dragged himself off the bed to clean up. 

* * *

“What do you do, Dick?” Barba asked, sipping his drink as he regarded the man across the table.

“Oh, it’s Rick.”

“He knows that,” Benson said, shooting Barba a dirty look that made him smirk. 

“I teach math to junior high kids who hate math,” Rick said.

“Fun,” Barba intoned, cocking an eyebrow.

“What do you do?” 

“I’m her assistant,” Barba said with a gesture of his head toward Benson.

“He’s a lawyer,” she answered.

“That, too. So tell us something about you, Rick. Something exciting.”

Benson rolled her eyes but didn’t bother intervening, content to drink her margarita and watch things unfold.

“I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue.” Rick paused for dramatic effect and looked at Benson. “Actually, that’s a lie. I can’t. But I’ve been known to try for... _hours_ ,” he added with a grin and a suggestive lift of his brows.

She laughed, and Barba offered a small huff—amused in spite of himself. 

“So how does this work?” Rick asked. “Are we all leaving together…?”

Barba raised his brows at Benson, his lips twisting into a smug smile, and she said, “I’m not interested in sharing tonight.”

“Him, or me?” Rick quipped without hesitation, and Barba tipped his head back to laugh.

“I like him,” he said, pointing a finger. 

“Yeah? Does that mean I’m in?” Rick asked.

“I’m only the gatekeeper. She’s the keymaster,” Barba said, laughing again at the look she shot him.

To his credit, Rick also laughed. “Of course. The right to veto doesn’t equal the right to consent.”

“And with that, I’m out of here,” Barba said, setting his empty glass on the table and getting to his feet. “You kids have fun.” He bent down and put his lips near Benson’s ear. “If you need me, I’ll be over there with the woman who’s been eye-fucking me for the past twenty minutes.”

“I wondered if you’d noticed,” she answered, winking before giving his cheek a quick pat. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Never,” he agreed with a smile. “See ya around, Rick,” he added as he straightened.

* * *

“So how’d it go this weekend?” Benson asked after she’d closed her office door. She took the paper bag from Barba, thanking him for bringing lunch before walking over to sink into her chair behind her desk.

Barba dropped onto her sofa, unbuttoning his blazer, and leaned back with his knees spread before him. He shrugged a shoulder. 

She shot him a _look_ , and said, “Did she stay for breakfast?”

“If coffee and toast is breakfast, then yes. She’s nice. She, uh, doesn’t do oral, but that’s obviously not a dealbreaker.” Barba had never been one to talk about his sex life, or to talk about his partners, except with Benson. It had taken years for them to reach this level of comfort, but now they had no secrets from each other. And he trusted her completely to keep the confidence. 

“Did you offer up _your_ services?” she asked as she fished her deli sandwich out of the bag he’d brought. 

“Of course.” He showed his teeth in a grin, because they both knew she couldn’t honestly contradict his cockiness about his skill in that area. 

“Lucky her.” She took a bite of her sandwich and regarded him across the room. 

“Mr. Math Teacher didn’t go down on you?” he asked, barely needing to exaggerate his disdain. 

She unscrewed the lid from the sweet tea he’d bought her in the deli. “He made up for it. Mostly.”

Barba sighed. “I’m going to have to add it to my list of questions.”

“Don’t you dare,” she laughed. 

“You wouldn’t think a guy who suggested a threesome would be a prude.”

“Not everyone has your confidence, Barba,” she said, earning another grin. “Besides, he got the job done.”

“More or less than twice?”

She chewed a bite of sandwich in silence. 

“Twice, then. Hmm. Could be worse.”

“He was fine. You calling your date again?”

“I doubt it.” He sighed and leaned forward, pushing to his feet. “I have to go. Dinner? You and Noah?”

“Can’t tonight, parent-teacher conference. You can come over for takeout tomorrow night, if you want.”

“Dinner with my mother.” He stretched his back for a moment before buttoning his blazer. “We’ll figure it out this week, I’ll call you.”

* * *

Barba was mildly uncomfortable with the young woman sitting in his lap, but not uncomfortable enough to ask her to get off. He opened his mouth when she held up the olive from her martini, letting her slip it between his lips and onto his tongue. 

He rolled it over between his teeth, letting it squish for a moment before biting down, and he made a small sound of amusement when she bent her head to kiss him. 

Not exactly his idea of foreplay, but while it was a little gross it also wasn’t enough for him to dislodge her from his lap. She smelled nice, she was a good kisser, and her eyes weren’t roaming. She seemed to like him, and he could definitely wrap his mind around the idea of taking her home for the night.

Benson was doing pretty well for herself, too, even if her would-be hookup was a little thicker in the neck than she usually preferred. He owned a gym, or so he claimed, and he didn’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed—but he did seem respectful, which was a mark in his favor. 

Barba wasn’t crazy about him, but there were no blatant red flags. He knew Benson could take care of herself, and she was the best judge of character of anyone he knew, but Barba still wondered if his misgivings were important enough to mention. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

The woman in Barba’s lap—Lena—bent down to nibble at his earlobe. “Wanna go in the bathroom?” she asked, sliding a hand from his thigh over to his crotch, and he twitched in surprise. He grabbed her wrist automatically, looking around. She seemed amused by his shyness, and she licked into his ear. He grimaced, because that was even grosser than sharing an olive.

“We can head out,” he said. “You can come to my place—”

She gave him a squeeze through his jeans and he ground his teeth, his fingers tightening around her wrist. She lifted her head to look at him, pursing her lips into a pout. “Not into PDA?”

“Don’t do that, please,” he said in a low voice, moving her hand over to his leg gently but firmly. He glanced across the table and caught Benson’s eyes for only a moment before looking away. 

“I’ll suck you off in the bathroom, I don’t mind,” Lena said, popping open the top button of his shirt. 

His interest in taking her home had died a rapid death, and he suppressed a sigh. It wasn’t even her fault; he just wasn’t in the mood for the game. He found her attractive, and he had no doubt they could have fun together, but he was no longer sure it was worth it. 

“Would you excuse me for a minute?” he said, putting his hands on Lena’s waist to guide her off his lap.

“Want me to come?”

“No. I’ll be right back.” He had to give her points for persistence, and for knowing what she wanted. He headed toward the bathroom. He needed a breather to clear his head and figure out his next course of action.

After using the urinal, he washed his hands and splashed water on his face, glaring at himself in the mirror and cursing himself as a crusty old man who’d forgotten how to have fun. A part of him—and not an insignificant part—had been hoping that Benson wouldn’t find anyone and they could leave together.

He didn’t want to examine too closely what that said about him, but he knew it made him an asshole. She deserved fun and happiness and pleasure more than anyone in the world, and he would never begrudge her that even if the sight of her laughing at some other guy’s stupid jokes make his stomach churn; if the thought of some other guy running his hands over her body made his chest ache.

He wasn’t surprised to find Benson waiting outside the bathroom for him, but he was surprised and annoyed to see that her date—Chad or Brad or Thad, maybe Jeff—and Lena had their heads bent together at the table and seemed awfully friendly.

“You okay?” Benson asked.

“Fine.”

“Little handsy, huh?”

Barba glanced around and leaned toward her, keeping his voice low. “She offered to blow me in the bathroom.” He rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know, I’m just not into this tonight. You go have fun with Mr. Axe Body Spray, I think I’m gonna head out early.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t like him,” she accused.

“I don’t dislike him enough to red flag him,” he countered. “I just think you could do better.” He glanced around again and grimaced. “Maybe not tonight, though. Slim pickings in here.”

“We could go somewhere else.”

“You’re not leaving with...I’m sorry, what the fuck is his name?”

“Greg. And no, his breath smells like fish.”

He uttered a surprised laugh, his eyebrows going up. “Is that a euphemism?” 

“No. He literally smells like he just ate a can of sardines,” she said, smiling in exasperation when he laughed again. “I’m glad you’re amused. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“She might still have part of an olive in her mouth, they can—”

“Alright, jackass,” she laughed, pulling his arm to spin him toward their table. “Let’s say goodnight on the off chance they’d actually notice if we left.”

* * *

As soon as she’d locked the bedroom door he turned her around and pushed her against it, flattening her back against the wood as he slanted his mouth over hers in a hungry kiss. He pulled at the buttons of her shirt, making a sound of frustration when he couldn’t get them free. 

She was already unzipping his jeans and pulling him free, so he gave up on her shirt and tugged on the sides of her skirt, instead, hiking it up to her hips. He turned his face from hers, breathing heavily against her skin as he bent his head to kiss along the side of her neck. He slipped a hand between her legs, pushing aside her panties, and he was relieved to find her slick and ready.

As though reading his mind, she threw a leg around his hips, guiding his erection into place with one hand. 

“Yes?” he asked against the curve of her neck, nipping lightly at her skin.

She gasped, clutching at his hair with her other hand. “Yes,” she breathed, and he shifted his stance and flexed his hips, entering her with one smooth thrust. She dropped her head back against the door, one hand fisted in his hair and the other holding onto his shirt, one leg hooked around his waist. 

He smothered his sound against her neck, holding her pinned against the door as he paused for a moment to relish the feeling of being buried completely inside her. His need was already burning hot, though, consuming him, and he had to move. He drew back a bit and filled her again, and again, lifting his head to swallow her soft cry as his body slammed into hers. He could feel her already beginning to tighten and spasm around him, and he fought against his own impending climax as he drove into her at an unrelenting pace.

“Come for me,” he breathed against her lips, more a plea than a command. He snaked a hand between their bodies and found her clit with his middle finger, plunging his tongue into her mouth as she convulsed around him and came hard, shuddering between him and the door.

He grabbed her leg as it started to give beneath her, hooking his arms beneath her thighs and driving into her until he came deep inside her body. He dropped his face to her shoulder, panting as his cock continued to throb inside her. Her arms and legs were wrapped around him and she was breathing heavily, her body still spasming around his in an instinctive effort to draw every last drop he had to offer. 

“Jesus,” he breathed as realization slowly dawned. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she murmured, but he lifted his head to look at her.

“Liv,” he said, his voice laced with apology. “I didn’t mean—”

“I said yes,” she interrupted, cupping her hands to his face. 

Consenting to sex against the door wasn’t the same as giving him permission to come inside her, though. He grimaced as he carefully withdrew from her body and lowered her legs until her feet were on the floor, but she didn’t push him away. She was still holding onto his face, her fingers curled into his damp hair. 

“It won’t happen again,” he promised.

“Rafael,” she said quietly, making sure he held her gaze. “It’s nice to be able to let go once in a while. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” she added, and he swallowed as he searched her face. 

After a moment’s consideration he nodded and looked at her lips. The desire to kiss her was overwhelming but he hesitated, unsure if he was crossing another line—letting his sentimentality get the best of him after the moment of intimacy. He was always careful. _They_ were always careful.

But she was right. No matter how tightly he might be wound, he knew this _never_ would’ve happened with a stranger. 

“Nice,” he repeated softly, his gaze flicking up to hers. “That’s one way to describe it.” His face split into a grin when she laughed quietly. “It _was_ nice,” he agreed, his voice cracking in amusement, and he pressed his forehead against hers for a moment. “As long as you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” She paused, and he lifted his head to meet her eyes. “If you think you’ll be up for a second round, you can stay awhile.”

“I think that’s surprisingly likely,” he said with a grin.

* * *

Barba drew up short, his heart skittering in surprise as he came face to face with Noah. The boy looked like he was half-asleep, and he peered at Barba in the dim glow from the nightlight beside the bathroom doorway.

“Uncle Raf?”

“Hey, buddy...what’re you doing up?” Barba asked, trying his best not to look and sound like he’d been caught doing something illicit.

“I had to go to the bathroom,” Noah said, and Barba cursed himself for asking such a stupid, obvious question. “Are you sleeping over?”

“No, I—” Barba stopped and cleared his throat, thankful the boy couldn’t see the heat staining his cheeks. _Get a fucking grip_ , he thought. “I’m going home. You need me to tuck you back into bed or anything?” Barba cursed himself as an idiot. 

“Are you and Mom making a baby?”

“I—um—excuse me?” Barba asked, his body suddenly a mixture of hot embarrassment and cold sweat. 

“Joey says when grownups—”

“No,” Barba said in a near-panic. 

“Oh.”

Noah’s obvious disappointment took some of the edge off of Barba’s discomfort, and he reminded himself that Noah was too young to fully understand what he was asking. “Your mom is too—” He cut himself off abruptly. _Nope_ , he thought. _Try again_. “Your mom and I are friends, and sometimes—” He stopped again. _What the fuck is WRONG with you?_

“Sorry,” Noah said, shuffling his bare feet on the carpet, “I didn’t mean to say something bad.”

Barba drew a steadying breath and sank into a crouch, grimacing at the pull in his knees. “You didn’t, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s just a little complicated for the middle of the night. Why don’t you go back to bed and we can talk tomorrow, alright? You can always ask me anything, buddy, you know that.” Barba was going to have to ask Benson what the hell he was supposed to say, though. 

“Yeah. Okay. Goodnight, Uncle Rafa.”

“Goodnight, Noah,” Barba said, giving the boy’s chest a soft pat before straightening. He watched Noah disappear back into his bedroom, and let out a soft puff of breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He made a small, surprised sound when he felt a tug on the back of his shirt, and his stomach clenched for a moment before he realized what was happening.

He let Benson pull him back into her bedroom, and he leaned against the door as soon as she’d closed it. 

“You almost told him I was too old,” she said, clearly more amused than offended.

“That was the most terrifying two minutes of my life,” he said, and she pressed her face against his shoulder to muffle her laughter. He wrapped his arms around her automatically. “Jesus.” He dropped his head back against the door, grinning at the sound of her quiet laughter.

“You did fine,” she said, lifting her head as she tried to pull herself together. “Wish I could’ve seen the panic on your face, though.”

“I’m glad you think this is funny,” he laughed, “because I think I just told him I’d explain how babies are made.”

“He knows the basics.”

“That doesn’t make this situation better.”

“Relax, Barba, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, here.”

“I realize I’m not the only guy you’ve brought home—” She started to pull away and he dropped his arms to let her go, but he held up a hand. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I don’t bring men back here,” she said quietly. “You think I’d risk Noah running into a stranger in the hall in the middle of the night?”

Barba took several moments while he processed that. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to walk over to the bed. “You’re not an asshole. He put you on the spot. As often as you’ve been coming over, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Barba supposed that was true. They’d been leaving with each other a lot more frequently than with other people, lately. Maybe they’d fallen into complacency, after all, despite their best intentions.

Or maybe it was something else, something they were skirting and afraid to acknowledge. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him, and after a few seconds he ran his hands through his hair and walked tentatively toward her.

“You think we’re screwing this up, here?” he asked.

“Screwing what up?”

“Us. Do you think we’re...Do you think _I’m_ screwing this up? Because I really don’t want to risk—”

“It’s late, Barba. I’m not sure I have the energy for...whatever this is,” she said, gesturing idly toward him. “We both have tomorrow off, we can talk in the morning if you want.”

He hesitated. She was upset with him, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Do you want me to leave?” 

She shot him an annoyed look. “You _were_ leaving,” she reminded him, all traces of the humor of a minute ago gone, now. 

His forehead dipped in confusion. “That’s...I always leave. Did you want me to stay?” he asked slowly.

“You can do whatever you want to do. That’s the point of all of this, right? We both get what we need without the hassle of commitment or hurt feelings—”

“Liv,” he said, but then they both fell silent and he stood there feeling like an ass, unsure what to say or do.

She sighed. “You’re not the bad guy here, Rafael. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m tired, is all.”

“You think I have a problem with commitment?”

She gave him a pointed look. “When’s the last time you spent more than one night with someone? And look, I’m not saying I’m any—”

“You,” he cut in, staring at her. “You’re the last time, the only...Liv, every time I watch you leave with someone else it’s harder than the time before. And the truth is, I want to…” He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek, afraid to lay himself at her feet and risk damaging their friendship beyond repair.

“Don’t stop now,” she said quietly.

“We only ever seem to have time together when we’re _here_ ,” he said, gesturing toward the bed. “If you tell me that more is an option then yes, I want more.”

“How much more?”

“Everything.”

A small smile curved her lips, but he could see the worry in her eyes. “And if it ends?” she asked, and he knew what she meant. Neither of them wanted to risk losing their friendship. 

He moved closer and sank onto the edge of the bed beside her, putting his hand on her knee. She searched his face, automatically covering his hand with her own. “I won’t run away, Liv. Not from you. I swear it on everything inside of me.” He paused. “Do you think I’d let you take a chance on me if I thought you’d get hurt? What kind of wingman would I be?”

She seemed surprised by that; he was a little surprised himself, but he realized it was true. He knew he didn’t deserve her, but he also knew that he would never intentionally hurt her. 

“Wingperson,” she said quietly after a moment. She studied his face. “Can I confess something? When she put her hand in your lap earlier, I wanted to throw her across the room.” She paused, debating. “I always want to leave with you,” she finally admitted quietly. 

“I always want to stay with you,” he answered.

“That’s a good line,” she said, laughing despite the tears shining in her eyes. She lifted her hands to his face and leaned over to brush a kiss across his lips. “It’s late. Why don’t you come back to bed and we can figure the rest out in the morning.”

He rose to his feet and kicked off his shoes before quickly stripping down to his underwear. She swung herself around in bed, folding the covers back, and after a brief hesitation he crawled in beside her. His heart was pounding in his chest; he was far more nervous than the first time they’d had sex.

When he settled down onto his side next to her, she faced him with one hand under her cheek and threaded the fingers of her other hand into the curls of hair on his chest.

“It’s funny,” she said softly, meeting his eyes. “I think I know every inch of your body.”

“I’d argue we know each other inside and out,” he answered, his voice just as soft, letting one eyebrow tick upward to make her smile.

“But I don’t know if you snore.”

“I regret to inform you...”

Still smiling, she said, “I’ll take my chances.”

“Liv,” he started, but he wasn’t sure how to put into words what he wanted to say. He could tell her he loved her, but that didn’t seem big enough, somehow.

“Me, too,” she said after a few seconds of silence. She tipped her chin up a little and he met her lips for a slow, closed-mouth kiss. He laid his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, drawing a breath. He could feel himself relaxing into the softness and warmth already. “Of course, when you’re here in the morning my son is gonna think you lied to him.”

“Shit,” he said, his eyes snapping open in alarm.

She laughed, grabbing his shoulder to keep him in place. “Relax, I’m kidding,” she said, snaking her hand around the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. 

“All these years, I didn’t know you were a comedian,” he muttered, trying and failing to give her an arch look.

“Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Mmhm,” he agreed, watching her twist and reach back to turn off the lamp. Once she’d settled back onto her pillow, he kissed her forehead, her nose, and her lips. “Goodnight, Liv,” he murmured sleepily, smiling as she snuggled into his loose embrace.


End file.
